The Greater Good
by captdeb
Summary: A jumper crash in hostile territory leaves Carson with multiple patients, including himself. COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

Carson lay in the wreckage of the puddle jumper, cautiously moving his appendages and vowing to never, ever go offworld again. His arms and legs were bruised but intact, and there was no pain in his neck or back. When he rolled to his side, a dull pain in his lower abdomen made itself known. He pulled up his shirt and probed the sore spot, hoping it was just a bruise.

"Ow," complained a nearby voice.

Carson rose carefully to his hands and knees, crawling the few feet to Ronan's side. The big Satedan sat up with a groan, cradling his left forearm against his body. Probing the appendage gently, Carson winced in sympathy when Ronan cursed and flinched. "Aye, the radius is broken, but the pulse is good. Are you hurt anywhere else? No? All right, lad, stay put. I need to check on the others, then I'll splint that up for you."

The front of the jumper had taken the brunt of the impact. Fire retardant coated the bent, crushed console and danced in the air. Carson coughed, feeling his side flare, and reached for Sheppard's still form. He was wedged under the pilot's console, bleeding freely from a long, deep laceration that ran diagonally across his forehead. "Colonel," Carson called, peeling back his eyelids. The pupils were equal and, so far as he could tell without a penlight, reacting normally. "John? Wake up now, Colonel." Not getting a response, Carson felt his way down Sheppard's vertebrae, then did the same to his limbs.

Ronan was suddenly beside him, holding out a case with his uninjured arm. "I found your stuff."

"Thank God for small favors," he muttered, pulling out a field dressing and stripping it of its wrapper. "Hold this here," he instructed the Satedan. "Firm pressure. Not that firm, lad, you'll crush his skull like an egg. That's the ticket."

Rodney was sprawled in the copilot's seat, his head turned away. Carson didn't like the angle of his neck. He had to straddle Rodney's lap, careful not to touch his splayed legs, to fit him with a C-collar. The Canadian's face was a mass of first- and second-degree burns, the skin around his eyes swollen, red and beginning to blister. Carson doused the burns liberally with distilled water from his kit and wrapped his eyes in sterile bandages. A further check revealed a fractured collarbone. Carson bound Rodney's right arm to his chest and rechecked his vitals. "You'll do," he pronounced, standing back. "Right, Ronan, let's get that arm splinted."

Once the Satedan's arm had been snuggly strapped, he helped Carson to lay Rodney on the floor next to Sheppard. Sinking down between his patients, the doctor sighed and pressed a hand to his side. "Ronan, lad, what the bloody hell happened?"


	2. Chapter 2

"We crashed."

Carson stared at the Satedan as though he'd lost his mind. "Oh did we now? You've got astounding powers of observation, don't you? From these few wee clues," he shouted, gesturing at the wreckage all around them, "you were able to conclude that we crashed! Bloody brilliant!"

Ronan sat patiently through his tirade and waited a beat more before asking, "Feel better?"

"Aye, a bit." Carson ran his hand through his hair, embarrassed at his outburst. "Sorry, I'm feeling a bit out of sorts."

Ronan nodded. "I think we were shot down."

"Shot down? By the Kalerians? Oh, God." He scrubbed his face with the back of his hand. "I should have –"

"It's not your fault. Even if you agreed to give them what they wanted, Sheppard wouldn't have let you."

Carson fisted his hair with both hands, aware that he was becoming slightly hysterical. "This is never going to end," he said, his voice rising in pitch. "I'm going to pay, and everyone around me is going to pay, for the rest of my life!"

"I think you should know," Ronan said solemnly, "I'm considering slapping you."

That startled a laugh from the doctor, and he forced himself to take a deep, calming breath. "Let's leave that as a last resort, shall we? A slap from you would likely break my neck."

Ronan had been picking through the jumbled supplies and debris, finally emerging with his energy weapon. "I'm gonna do some recon, see if I can find a high point. We need to know how far we are from the gate. You know how to use a P90?"

"Aye, I've had training," was the dubious reply.

"Take Sheppard's. Keep an eye out for visitors." Ronan tested his radio, gesturing for Carson to do the same. By some miracle, they both worked. "I'll check in every fifteen minutes or so."

"Be careful," Carson urged, unclipping the colonel's weapon and holding it gingerly before him. Ronan grinned and shook his head, sending his dusty dreadlocks waving.

"You be careful too," he replied, gently nudging the barrel of the P90 towards the floor.

"Right." Carson watched Ronan force the jumper's bent door until he had an opening big enough to fit through. "Good luck," he said. The Satedan ducked through the gap and was gone. Carson chose a spot where he could see outside and still keep an eye on his patients and settled down to his solitary watch. He was calmer now, but his stomach still churned when he remembered the Kalerian minister's request.


	3. Chapter 3

Earlier in the day…

"Dr. Beckett, it is a pleasure to meet you." First Minister Linel was a stout, balding man with an easy smile and a firm handshake. "I'm delighted you've volunteered your services to help my people."

"Volunteer is such a subjective term," Carson muttered, giving the colonel a sideways glare. He gave Linel his best dimpled grin and took the chair he was offered. Sheppard, Ronan and McKay likewise seated themselves around the table.

Linel took his seat with a flourish of his moss-green robes. "Welcome back to Kaleria, gentlemen. Where is your lovely companion?"

"Teyla had some personal business to attend to. Carson is our new, er, lovely companion," Sheppard said, earning a snort from McKay.

Chuckling, Linel bowed his head. "And he is most welcome. As I told you during your last visit, we are happy to initiate trade with your people. Kaleria will supply a specific quantity of grains and vegetables, in exchange for medical assistance."

"I'll gladly do all I can," Carson replied. "We can help you set up a vaccination program for the children. We've also made great strides in diagnosing, preventing and treating various diseases in adults, and we'll certainly share that with you."

"That is most generous, Doctor, but we conquered disease centuries ago."

"Hold it," Rodney leaned forward. "You're saying nobody on Kaleria gets sick?"

"Very rarely. Most live to a very old age and die of natural causes. Those few who don't perish in accidents."

Ronan posed the question on everyone's mind. "Then what do you need a doctor for?"

Leaning forward excitedly, Linel splayed his hands on the tabletop. "Our biggest health concern is population control. It has been for years. That, Doctor, is where you come in."

Beckett frowned in confusion. "Minister, if you've cured disease, surely you've figured out the basics of contraceptive methods."

"I'm afraid it's much too late for that," Linel said. "Our forefathers were so pleased with their medical advances that they never foresaw the end results of their labors. Kaleria simply cannot support the sheer volume of people living here."

Carson felt he had lost the plot. "I still don't see –"

"We've heard about your brilliant work on Hoff. A fifty per cent mortality rate, and the survivors immune to the Wraith culling! It's a perfect solution, a completely fair and unbiased way of reducing the population. Not only will our resources be sufficient, the reduction in populace will hopefully keep us from the Wraiths' notice." The First Minister smiled, his eyes bright with excitement.

Carson felt warm all over, aware that the blood was rushing out of his face. A fist closed in the back of his jacket and pushed his head down between his knees. His breath was coming in short pants. His stomach threatened to revolt. "Oh God," he murmured. "God. Oh God."

Rodney's voice sounded near his ear. "Breathe, Carson. Deep, slow breathes." The voice moved slightly away from him and became much less comforting. "Are you insane? You're asking us to help you kill half your people?"

Linel's voice sounded hollow and distant from Carson's position under the table. "I don't understand," he said, sounding genuinely confused. "Have I said something to upset you?"

This time it was Sheppard who responded. "We are not going to help you murder innocent people!"

"You're being a bit dramatic, Colonel. It's simply good resource management." Linel frowned and folded his arms. "I really don't understand your reluctance. You certainly didn't seem to have any qualms about reducing the population of Hoff."

Carson was unable to bite back a sickened groan. Sheppard stood up abruptly. "We're outta here." The colonel moved to Carson's other side, and he and Rodney levered him gently to his feet. "Come on, Doc, let's blow this freak show."

"No!" Linel shot to his feet, prompting two guards at the door to reach for their weapons. Sheppard and Ronan drew down on them in the space of a heartbeat, and for a tense moment no one moved or spoke.

"Please, my friends," Linel coaxed, wringing his hands. "Return to the negotiating table. Whatever your price is, I am sure we can meet it. My people need your help if we are to survive."

Carson looked at his teammates. Sheppard's blue eyes were chips of ice, his mouth twisted in a disgusted sneer. McKay was red-faced, his jaw clenched tightly, his thin lips pressed together in anger. Ronan hadn't been with them at Hoff, but his solidarity was clear.

Carson spoke for them all. "Go to hell."


	4. Chapter 4

Carson stopped to throw up twice on the way back to the jumper. Ronan and Sheppard stood guard, alert for any trouble. McKay, who could only be counted on for so much support, gingerly patted his back and whined, "Eww, Carson. Gross."

They made it to the jumper and took off without incident, and it was there that Carson's memory of events let him down. Once on board, he found a seat and curled into himself, too immersed in his own anguish to notice anything else.

Carson was jolted out of his memories by a groan. He turned to find Sheppard moving feebly. "Be still, Colonel," he ordered, moving to his side. Laying the P90 within easy reach, he framed Sheppard's face with his hands and tried to capture his restless gaze. "Look at me, lad," he coaxed.

Sheppard's eyes seemed incapable of focusing. Carson held a finger in front of his face. "Can you follow my finger?"

"Doc," Sheppard croaked. "What happened? Did we crash?"

"Yes, Colonel, we crashed. Follow my finger."

"Everyone okay?" Sheppard's eyes tracked his finger for a few seconds before sliding away.

"Everyone will be fine, no serious injuries. I need you to concentrate, Colonel. Watch my finger."

"Doc?"

"Yes?"

"What happened? Did we crash?"

Carson frowned and opened his mouth to reply, but Sheppard had already slid back into unconsciousness. "Definitely concussed," the doctor muttered to himself before moving, P90 in tow, to check on his other patient.

Rodney's vitals were good despite a slightly elevated heart rate. Carson attributed it to pain and took it as a sign the Canadian would wake soon. Sure enough, within a few moments Rodney awoke with a start and a yelp of pain. "Ow! Owowowowow, God that hurts!"

"Be still, Rodney. You're injured."

"Carson? What happened? Why is it dark? Oh my God, I'm blind!"

"Rodney! Rodney, listen –"

"I can't be blind! I can't do my job if I'm blind! They'll send me home on the Daedelus and I'll end up begging on the streets while Zelenka blows up Atlantis!"

"RODNEY! Shut yer gob and listen to me!" McKay's ranting gave way to harsh pants. Carson took hold of his hand and squeezed hard. "You're not blind. You've got some burns on your face and around your eyes. There's no sign of permanent damage, nothing that won't heal. Do you understand? You're going to be fine."

McKay drew a shaky breath. "Not blind?"

"Definitely not blind," Carson assured him. "You've fractured your collarbone, so I've immobilized your arm. I just want to do a quick neuro check and I'll give you something for the pain."

"I take it we crashed?" McKay was sounding calmer now, though his voice was slightly ragged with stress.

"Aye. Ronan thinks we were shot down."

"Everyone else okay?"

"Sheppard's in and out with a concussion. Ronan's got a clean break to his left radius."

"You?"

"Fine," Carson answered, trying not to think about the steady pain in his side. "Just bumps and bruises."

"Oh, that so figures! Whatever gods look out for voodoo rattle-shakers definitely have it in for brilliant scientists. That's the only explanation for the fact that I'm so frequently in the infirmary, and you're never there as a patient!"

"Oh, you don't think it's because you're on a first contact team, and I rarely leave Atlantis? Speaking of which, did I mention that I'm never, ever leaving –" A twig snapped outside the jumper's forced door and Carson froze, reaching for the P90. He raised it to his shoulder and flicked the safety off with one sweaty thumb, just as a shadow passed before the door.


	5. Chapter 5

"It's me," a familiar voice called. Carson could have fainted from sheer relief. He lowered the gun as Ronan's tall form slid through the door. The Satedan saw Rodney's head turn in his direction. "McKay. You're awake."

"What a brilliant observation. Of course I'm awake! Where the hell have you been while Carson's been doing his Florence Nightingale routine?"

"Scouting. Stargate's about twenty kilometers to the north."

Carson settled his back against a bulkhead, one arm crooked protectively around his side. "How long before Atlantis misses us?"

"Sheppard's due to check in in two hours," Ronan replied.

"So we sit tight and wait for rescue?"

Rodney paused in probing the tender skin around the bandage covering his eyes. "Elizabeth won't send backup until we miss at least two radio checks. That's five hours from now."

"We're gonna have company before then," Ronan said. "Two patrols coming from the city."

"Maybe it's a rescue party," Carson suggested.

"Or maybe they're coming to finish what they started." McKay eased himself into a sitting position, hissing through his teeth at the pain in his collarbone. "Ten to one our good friend Minister Linel is the guy who had us shot down."

Carson let his eyes close, taking shallow breaths to minimize the pain in his abdomen. "I don't understand why he would. What's he have to gain by killing us?"

"Nothing, which is why he didn't. I'm telling you, Carson, the guy was desperate to get his hands on that serum of yours. I guarantee when those patrols get here, they're gonna take you away and do extremely nasty things until you give it to them."

"Surely not. If he's determined to reduce the population," Carson swallowed hard, "there are many other ways to do it, considering Kaleria's current level of science. Why go through all this trouble?"

McKay bit his lip in thought. "That's what I've been asking myself since we left the meeting. Well, discounting the time I was apparently unconscious, of course."

"Blame," Ronan said suddenly. The doctors turned in his direction, and he shrugged. "Maybe this is the only way they can do it and have somebody else to blame. If their science is that advanced…"

McKay picked up the thread. "Then their scientists would be able to recognize any substance developed on Kaleria. This way, they get the serum from us, tell their populace it's a tasty food additive or intergalactic Viagra or whatever, and when half the planet dies –"

"They blame us," Carson murmured. "The government swears they were tricked by aliens who have conveniently vanished."

"If you're right, we can't wait for rescue." Ronan's voice was much closer, startling Carson into opening his eyes.

"Neither Rodney nor the Colonel are in any shape for a 20 kilometer hike," he pointed out.

The Satedan was eyeing him critically and didn't seem to like what he saw. "What about you?"

"Me? I don't think I could hike that far on my best day, lad."

Ronan cast a glance at Rodney, then lowered his voice so the physicist couldn't hear. "I'm going to have to go for help. With any luck, I'll make it to the gate and get back with a jumper before the patrols reach you, but you might end up having to defend yourself and the others. So I need you to tell me how bad you're hurt. The truth."

Carson pulled up his shirt, and they both peered at the dark bruise forming under his ribcage. "I've been hoping it was just a bruise," he admitted. "But the pain's getting worse, and I'm feeling a bit shocky. I'm most likely bleeding internally."


	6. Chapter 6

"That's serious, isn't it?" Ronan asked, his dark eyes somber.

"So serious, there isn't a thing to be done about it here," Carson sighed. "At least it's a slow bleed, so I've got some time before it gets critical."

"Maybe I shouldn't leave."

"I don't see that you have much choice, lad. Someone's got to go for help, and you're it by default." Carson struggled to his feet, dragging the P90 with him. "I'll do 'til you get back, don't worry. But Ronan, we'll not mention this wee wrinkle to Rodney. It'll only worry him, and I want him to stay as calm as possible, given the circumstances. And given that he's Rodney."

The subject of their discussion loudly announced his displeasure at being left out. "Okay, what's all the whispering about? Oh God, I'm hurt worse than you said, aren't I? What are you keeping from me?"

"You're fine. Ronan's going for the gate while you and I mind the fort."

"Is that a good idea? Uh, no offense, Carson, but I've seen you shoot and I don't think you're up to holding off the entire Kalerian army."

"Actually, the jumper's in a pretty defensible position," Ronan remarked. "Stay at the door, keep your eyes open, and you should be able to hold them off for awhile."

"A while?" Rodney snarked. "And what scientific method did you use to arrive at that precise estimate?"

Ronan ignored him, leaning over to strip Sheppard's excess ammunition from his vest. He handed it to Carson, who tucked the magazines into his jacket pockets.

"Let me give you something for pain," the doctor offered, reaching for his case. "Nothing that'll slow you down or dull your responses, but it should take the edge off." Ronan took the pills and washed them down with a bottle of water Carson had found from the wreckage. "Keep it," he insisted. "Stay hydrated so your muscles don't cramp. And for God's sake, be careful."

"And wear a sweater," Rodney added.

"Leave off, Rodney," Carson grumbled fondly. He opened a second bottle of water and placed it in McKay's hand. "You're to stay hydrated, too."

Ronan paused in the doorway, eyeing them with obvious indecision. Carson clapped him on the shoulder. "Go on, lad. Good luck." The Satedan nodded and slipped out of the jumper, and Carson settled himself by the door, the P90 in his lap. "So how are you feeling, then, Rodney?"

"My shoulder is killing me."

"That's the clavicle fracture, they can be right painful. It should heal up nicely, though, no worries."

"Are we talking surgery here?"

"Would I have given you water if you were headin' for surgery?"

"No, I guess not. Hey, you want some?" McKay gave his bottle a shake in Carson's direction.

In truth, Carson was desperately thirsty, but any first-year resident knew not to give anything by mouth to a patient with internal bleeding. Unlike Rodney, Carson was definitely headed for surgery. If he was lucky. "No thank you, Rodney. I'm good for now. Are you warm enough? I can get you an emergency blanket."

Before Rodney could answer, Sheppard groaned and tossed his head. Carson scrambled on hands and knees to his side. "Colonel, can you hear me?"

"Head hurts," Sheppard muttered, bringing a hand to his temple. A greenish tint to his pale face tipped Carson off, and he rolled the colonel to his side just before the man was copiously sick.

"Oh, that's just perfect!" Rodney bitched. "Stuck in here for God knows how many hours, smelling that? Terrific!"

Carson eased the colonel onto his back and wiped his face with his sleeve. Sheppard's eyes still roamed in random, unfocused patterns. "What happened?" he rasped. "Did we crash?"

Carson rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. It was going to be a long afternoon.


	7. Chapter 7

An hour after Ronan left, Carson was really wishing he'd taken Rodney with him. The Canadian scientist was ruthlessly efficient in a crisis, but with time to kill he was a right pain in the arse. For the past fifteen minutes, he'd been haranguing the doctor to find his laptop.

"Seriously, Carson, if you just look around, it's probably in one piece. Those things are built to withstand getting run over by a tank."

"And if I find it, what then? You can't bloody see the thing anyway."

"Well, obviously you'll have to help me out in that respect. I just want to take some readings, see what the damage to the jumper is."

"That's the least of our problems," Carson declared. "Besides, I can't be your lab assistant right now. I've got to keep an eye out for our lovely new friends."

Rodney sighed and pitched his empty water bottle away. It impacted with a bulkhead and fell to the floor with a hollow clatter. "Did you find any more water? I'm still thirsty."

"I'll look." Bracing an arm against the wall, Carson pushed himself to his feet. He leaned there, panting softly, and waited for his head to stop spinning.

"Carson?"

"Give me a moment, lad. Leg's asleep from sitting." Carson pushed off the wall and wiped clammy sweat from his brow with one sleeve. The jumble of equipment where he'd found the water seemed impossibly far away.

There was no longer any question in his mind. He was in trouble, and in very real danger of bleeding out before help arrived. His belly was rigid and distended beyond what could be blamed on his predilection for scones and jam, and his heart was beating too fast. And God, he was so thirsty. Scrabbling around the jumper trying to fill Rodney's drink order just added insult to injury.

"Here we are," he announced, injecting as much cheer into his voice as possible. He unscrewed the cap and placed the new bottle in Rodney's hand. The Canadian guzzled greedily, and Carson found himself captivated by the water that trailed from the sides of his mouth and down his face. The doctor gave himself a shake. "Try and make it last," he advised. "I don't see any others."

"Maybe you should keep looking," was Rodney's sage advice. "Hey, maybe you can find a lifesign detector. At least that way we'll have some notice before the Kalerians take you away."

Carson added the detector to the mental list of things he was scouting for. "You know, I'd appreciate a more positive outlook," he said, kicking a box of power bars out of the way. "Even if you think they'll take me off and do dreadful things to me, could you at least fake a little distress over it?"

"I'd miss you terribly. You're the only one on the medical staff who knows all my allergies by heart. And your needle sticks are almost painless."

"Why Rodney, that was almost a compliment."

"Hey, I'm not denying you're a handy guy to have around. You're reasonably intelligent. I mean, you almost elevate medicine to a science."

"How kind," Carson acknowledged sourly. He wiped his forehead again and sank to his knees, digging through piles of supplies and debris. A nylon strap peaked out at him, and he tugged, the effort bringing tears of pain to his eyes. He could have wept for joy when the attached pack turned out to be the jumper's emergency medical gear. "Come on," he muttered, fumbling with the zipper. "Please."

"Did you find the lifesign detector?" Rodney called.

"Not yet." Every emergency kit contained two units of IV solution. It wasn't as good as a blood transfusion, but if the bags were intact they would buy him some time. His heart dropped as he reached into the pack and encountered wetness. "Please," he whispered again, dragging the pack's contents out onto the floor.

One of the bags had ruptured during the crash. The other was intact. "Thank God," he sighed, uncoiling the tubing and hanging the bag from a jutting bit of metal. In short order he had started the IV on himself, taped down the needle and adjusted the flow to run wide open.

"Carson, what the hell are you doing over there?"

"Um, I found some rations," he said, dragging the box to him. He tossed a power bar at Rodney, barely watching as it bounced lightly off his chest. "Have a bite, eh?"

Rodney tore into the food, sufficiently distracted, while Carson continued to dig in the wreckage. "Ah! Found it!" The doctor blew some dust from the lifesign detector's display and activated the little device. Immediately, the screen lit up with tiny blips. Carson studied it a moment, his heart dropping to his aching stomach.

"Crap."


	8. Chapter 8

"What? What?" Rodney shrilled.

"If I'm reading this beastie right, we're about to have company."

"Maybe it's Ronan with the rescue party."

"I don't think so, they're coming from the wrong direction." Carson glanced around the jumper, his thoughts edged with panic. What to do first? "Maybe I should call Ronan."

"Carson, you can't," Rodney argued. "You could give his position away. Besides, what's he gonna do? He's too far away to help now."

"No, no, you're right," Carson muttered. "Okay, we're on our own." He gathered the P90, the lifesign detector and his IV bag and shuffled clumsily to Colonel Sheppard's side. Despite regaining consciousness briefly twice more since Ronan's departure, Sheppard remained disoriented and unable to stay awake. Carson couldn't rouse him now. "Rodney, I need you to keep an eye on Colonel Sheppard, so to speak."

"Oh, and do what? Wait for him to wake up so I can tell him we crashed – again?"

"Stay near him. If he wakes up, keep him calm and quiet. And try and do the same for yourself."

Rodney fumbled his sidearm out of its holster. "Look, I'm a way better shot than you. I should be defending us while you babysit Sheppard. Just take these bandages off!"

Carson's nerves were fraying and taking his patience with them. "It won't matter, Rodney! You won't be able to get your eyes open, the skin is too swollen and irritated. Now please, put your gun away before you shoot me!"

"But –"

"Rodney, will you shut the hell up!" Carson shouted.

The Canadian lapsed into stunned silence.

Carson gritted his teeth and crawled back to the doorway, hanging his IV bag where it wouldn't get in the way. With shaking hands he went over the P90, making sure the safety was off and the extra ammunition was within easy reach. He peered outside, blinking rapidly until his vision cleared, and waited for the enemy to show themselves.

"Carson." McKay's voice was soft, subdued.

He sighed. "Yes, Rodney."

"Are you okay?"

"Aye, lad. I'm sorry I shouted at you. I'm a bit nervous – I'm not really cut out for this commando rubbish."

"You're gonna do fine. You and I both know you're a lot tougher than these military types think. Let's face it, you'd last longer in boot camp than any of them would in a medical residency."

Carson smiled. "Thank you, Rodney. I appreciate the vote of confidence."

McKay waved aside his thanks with customary impatience. "Think nothing of it. Here, take this," he said, sliding his sidearm across the floor. "Here's hoping you won't need it."

Just as Carson secured the extra weapon, he heard a rustling outside the jumper. "Here we go," he muttered for Rodney's benefit. Fitting the P90 against his shoulder, he took aim just as the first Kalerian soldier appeared out of the woods. "That's far enough!" he called.

The soldier stopped and made a series of hand signals. Carson was aware of more soldiers fanning out behind him, just out of his sight. The first man stepped forward. "My name is Major Kiton. Who am I addressing?"

"Carson Beckett. I'll thank you not to come any closer, Major."

Kiton's young face radiated sincerity. "Doctor Beckett, I can't tell you how relieved I am to have found you. We've been searching for you since we saw your craft go down on our sensors. We're here to offer medical assistance."

"No thank you. We're all fine here."

Kiton touched something near his shoulder and spoke quietly for a moment. Carson realized he was talking into a radio. After a moment he looked up and took a step forward, holding his empty hands out in front of him. "Doctor, please. Your craft is unable to fly. If your party was mobile, you would have left by now. Allow us to help you."

"No thank you," Carson repeated. "Our own people will be here soon enough. We'll be fine until then."

"I don't understand," Kiton said. "I assure you, we only have your best interests at heart. We're prepared to treat your injured. Why don't you come out and wait for your people in comfort?"

Carson wasn't listening to the words. He was watching Kiton's eyes, which kept glancing to his left. "Major," he warned, "pull your people back, now! I don't want to hurt anyone, but I will fire on you if you force me to!" To his surprise, Kiton actually took a step back.

He was just beginning to relax a bit when a small silver orb was lobbed through the door.


	9. Chapter 9

For the first time in his life, Carson's body reacted faster than his brain. He swung the P90 in front of him like a cricket bat and heard the metallic clink as the sphere made contact. It rolled to a stop at Kiton's feet and immediately began spewing thick yellow smoke. Carson allowed himself a smug grin as the Kalerian soldiers scattered, coughing and swearing.

"What happened?" Rodney demanded.

"They chucked in some sort o' tear gas canister. I chucked it back at 'em. They're getting' a snootful of their own medicine, the gallus choobs."

"Way to go, Braveheart! Hey, maybe you can just yell some Scottish at them and they'll get scared and run off."

"Ah, away an' boil yer head," Carson teased. Smoke continued to fill the little clearing before the jumper, and Kiton's men had pulled back. So far the score was Scotland 1, Kaleria 0, and Carson was feeling vastly cheered by the minor victory.

Twenty minutes passed. The smoke dissipated, but the Kalerian soldiers made no further attempt to approach or communicate.

Carson's adrenaline started to ebb, the buzz from his first successful defense fading in the face of his continuing blood loss. "Rodney, how long do you figure it'd take Ronan to reach the gate?"

"Twenty kilometers? Maybe two hours, give or take. Depends on the terrain and whether the gate's being guarded. How long's he been gone?"

"Hour and a half, thereabouts."

"So we're on our own for a while yet. What do you think our friends out there are waiting for?"

"Doctor Beckett!" called a familiar voice from outside. "Doctor, I'd like to talk to you."

Rodney scooted a little closer to Sheppard, his head cocked like a dog's. "Is that Linel?"

"Aye." The First Minister of Kaleria stood alone in the clearing, his hands laced nervously before him. Carson wiped his sweaty palm on his pants and adjusted his grip on the P90. "I told your man there, and I'll tell you, too. Keep your distance!" he shouted.

Linel shuffled a half-pace backwards but then nervously held his ground. "Please believe me, Doctor. I never wanted it to be this way."

"Oh, I'm certain," Carson sniped, training his weapon on Linel's chest. "Sorry to be such a bother."

"I have a proposition for you. Come back to the city with me, share your knowledge, and your friends will be free to go."

"Is that so?"

"You have my word."

"I see. And after I share my knowledge, what happens to me?"

"You will be adequately compensated and returned to your people."

Carson may not have been a master tactician, but he knew people. Linel's face was dotted with perspiration, and his eyes slid to the left when he spoke. The man was lying. "I'm afraid I'll have to decline. You see, I don't believe you have my best interests at heart. Especially after the tear gas."

Linel gave a tight smile that in no way hid his unease. "You must forgive Major Kiton, Doctor. He had orders to secure your safety, orders which I'm afraid he carried out a bit overzealously. An occupational hazard among the military."

Carson's vision swam without warning and he blinked rapidly trying to focus. Linel's green robes vanished into the surrounding forest. Not that he wanted to shoot anyone in any case, but this was a disturbing development indeed. There was nothing for it but to stall and hope Ronan reached the gate ahead of schedule. Luckily, Mrs. Beckett's baby boy could blether with the best of them. "Let's say I trust you to keep your word," he called. "What sort of compensation did ye have in mind?"

Behind him, Rodney made a choking sound. "What? You can't be serious!" he hissed. "God, didn't you learn anything from Hoff?"

Carson bit his lip against a pain sharp enough to rival the one in his belly. He told himself that Rodney was in pain, under stress and medicated, that he should be used to his friend's thoughtless, hurtful comments. But he couldn't help but wonder if the Canadian really thought so poorly of him.

Linel seemed cautiously relieved. "In exchange for your services, we will be willing to provide enough fruit and grain to sustain your people for one year."

"I didn't study hard all these years to work for fruit, Minister. What else have ye got?" Ignoring Rodney's sputtering and Linel's gaping like a stunned mullet, Carson squinted until he could make out the face of his watch. Ronan had been gone for an hour and forty minutes. Carson shifted and groaned as nausea roiled his gut. Panting quietly, he sent out a heartfelt mental plea to the Satedan – _run fast, lad!_


	10. Chapter 10

"Carson. Carson!"

The doctor jerked awake, blinking away the gray at the edges of his vision. Damn, how long had he been out? It couldn't have been more than a few seconds. "Rodney, what did he say? I missed that last bit," he whispered, rubbing his eyes with the back of one shaking hand.

"He just promised you everything but his firstborn child! Maybe you should pay attention here, Carson! From the sounds of things he's starting to figure out you're jerking him around. I think we're out of time."

_Oh, we're out of time all right,_ Carson thought in despair as the gray threatened to take him again. The IV solution was long gone. He was hanging on to consciousness through sheer willpower, but he'd reached the end of his endurance.

The most galling part of failure, he decided, was not that he'd ensured his own death, but that he'd failed to protect his friends. Carson wondered if that kind of thinking made him brave.

He could see movement in the clearing now, blurry, indistinct figures massing around Linel. "My patience is at an end, Doctor," the first minister called. "I'd hoped we could settle this like civilized beings, but you're determined to drive me to violence. Major Kiton," Linel gestured. The blurry soldiers began moving towards the jumper.

"Dammit!" Carson jammed the P90 against his shoulder and fired a burst into the dirt at the Kalerians' feet. The recoil sent fresh waves of agony through his abused torso. "Ah, God, God," he sobbed into the P90's stock. The Kalerians had moved back a few feet, but were advancing again. "Stay back, damn you!" Carson screamed, firing another round of warning shots.

And then his hands were empty.

He blinked, his fuzzy mind struggling to make sense of what had happened. The soldier who had crept up alongside the jumper and yanked the P90 out of his arms suddenly appeared in the doorway, grasping Carson's jacket and pulling. Carson's madly fumbling fingers closed around Rodney's sidearm. He raised it and shot the soldier in the chest at point blank range.

Beyond strategy now, he aimed the gun at the blurry mass of Kalerians and pulled the trigger until he ran out of bullets, all the while sobbing from fear, pain, and unadulterated rage. He could hear shots ringing out, lots of them, and Rodney was shouting something behind him, but Carson could only think about holding off his attackers for one more minute. He scrabbled blindly through the closest jumble of equipment and debris, coming up with a hard plastic case the size of a computer monitor. Climbing painfully to his knees, he swung it with all his remaining strength at the looming figure in the jumper's doorway. His momentum spun him completely around when he missed, and he all but collapsed in the man's arms. He struggled against the hands holding him, digging for traction with his sneakered feet and screaming obscenities.

He was hyperventilating, his heart racing like he'd run a marathon. Voices surrounded him. Hands held him firmly despite his frantic attempts to escape. Finally, large hands captured his face and held him still. Carson looked up and saw a blurry face surrounded by swaying dreadlocks.

The last of the fight went out of him, and his body went limp.

Until hands touched his distended belly, and then his back arched, a scream gurgling from his throat. "Sorry, Carson, sorry," he heard. He recognized the voice as belonging to one of his staff, Dr. Ruiz.

"Carmen," he muttered. "Sheppard hasn't been oriented. Rule out. Skull fracture."

"I know, Carson, we'll take good care of him. Try to relax."

An oxygen mask settled over his face. He tried to move away from it, but Ronan's huge paws held his head still. Carson moaned in frustration – there were things Carmen needed to know. "Rodney," he panted, "Fractured. Clavicle."

"Don't worry, Chief, we're on it," said another voice he knew. Rick Baker, a cheerful young nurse from the American Midwest, was the only one who called him Chief. "You just worry about you right now. Can you tell me how you're feeling?"

Carson blinked, feeling the gray creep over him again. "Awfy peely-wally…"

Baker was busy starting an IV in Carson's right arm, the one in the left having been torn out during the firefight. "Sorry, Chief, you're gonna have to help me. What's that mean in English?"

"Done," Carson whispered, sliding into darkness. "I'm done."

_A/N: Thanks, everyone, for the very generous reviews. Sorry the chapters are short, but that's the only way I can post so frequently. Hope the tradeoff's worth it! I'm aware I've been spelling Ronan's name wrong. It's not that I don't care, it's…okay, it's that I don't care. Not enough to go back and change it, anyway, so I opted for consistency over accuracy. Better luck next story, guy!_

_One more chapter should do it, I think. Thanks for reading!_


	11. Chapter 11

The first thing he heard was the beeping – the soothing, steady beat of a heart in normal sinus rhythm. Beyond that was the _whoosh-thunk_ of a ventilator, as familiar and comforting as the smells of disinfectant and human bodies. Carson's eyelids felt as though they were weighted down with stones. He gave up trying to open them. Nor did he feel any great urge to move, considering the dull ache that lay just under the hum of painkillers that surrounded him. Within seconds, the sounds and smells faded and he slipped back into darkness.

Once again sounds filtered into his awareness. The beeping was still present but the noise of the ventilator was gone, replaced by a murmur that sounded a bit like flies buzzing. He focused until the noise resolved into a voice.

"— what his problem is. As soon as they let me out of here, I'm gonna find him and kick his ass."

Carson forced first one eye open, then the other, blinking until he could make out the sight of Sheppard dressed in hospital scrubs and sitting cross-legged on a nearby bed. Ronan was slouched in a chair, his long legs sticking out in front of him. The Satedan nodded his head in Carson's direction. "He's awake. I'll get the doc."

Sheppard slid off the bed and padded over, leaning down close. Carson examined the neat black sutures across the colonel's forehead. Dr. Baranski's work, if he wasn't mistaken. Max had always had a nice hand for sewing. "Hey, doc. 'Bout time you woke up."

"Colonel, back in bed, if you please." Sheppard's face receded and was replaced by that of Carmen Ruiz. "Welcome back, Carson," she smiled, checking the readouts on the monitor. "You gave us quite a scare."

"Wha –" he croaked, his mouth sand-dry. Carmen slipped an ice chip between his lips and he closed his eyes in bliss.

"Don't go back to sleep just yet," Carmen urged. "I need you to tell me if you're in any pain."

"A little," he admitted, his voice still hoarse. He watched as Carmen accepted a syringe from a nurse and injected it into his IV port. "What's the damage?"

"You lacerated your spleen. We transfused the hell out of you and fixed it surgically. It was close, Carson. You coded in the jumper. We had to shock you."

"Och, I'm sorry to have worried you, lass. And I thank you for taking such good care of me."

"Knock that off," Dr. Ruiz said sternly. "You're not to worry about anyone but yourself until I tell you otherwise, clear?"

"You're the boss," he yawned. "But lass," he said, gazing up at her through his lashes and employing his dimples to good effect, "would you be so kind as to update me on Rodney and the colonel?"

"Don't flash those blue eyes at me, mister. I know all your tricks." She tried to look stern, but ended up shaking her head. "Dr. McKay is fine. No damage to his eyes and the burns on his face are healing nicely. I released him to his quarters two days ago. Colonel Sheppard is still with us as you can see, but I may release him in the morning IF he behaves himself." The man in question was leaning on the foot of Carson's bed and grinning unrepentantly. "And now it's time for you to get some rest. You'll be weak as a newborn for some time to come, so don't start pestering me to release you."

"Wouldn't dream of it," he murmured, nestling into his pillow. "Carmen. Thanks for coming after me."

"I had to. No one can run this asylum quite like you can." She patted his arm with a smile and walked away.

Carson's lids were growing heavy again, but he was aware that Sheppard and Ronan were still close by. "So, where's Rodney?" he asked. "Surprised he's not malingering about, moanin' about his injuries." _Or checking on me,_ he thought sadly. He didn't miss the look his visitors exchanged.

"You know Rodney," Sheppard said, picking at the blanket over Carson's feet. "Convinced everything fell to pieces while he was recovering. He's probably in the lab yelling at Zelenka, making up for lost time."

Carson frowned, but decided to let it go for now. "Ronan, lad, you have bloody amazing timing."

The Satedan shook his head. "I thought I'd be too late. Didn't think you'd last that long, considering how bad you looked when I left."

"The doc's tough," Sheppard said, his voice an odd combination of admiration and regret. "You did really well out there, Carson."

"It's amazing what you can do when you're scared to death."

"That's what makes a man brave," Ronan said. "Doing what has to be done, even though he's scared." He leaned down, fixing serious brown eyes on the sleepy doctor. "I am honored to fight beside you, and call you a brother warrior."

"I appreciate that, lad, I do. But if it's all the same to you, I'll stay in the lab from now on and leave the fightin' to you." Carson felt himself fading and let the tide of darkness pull him under. Despite the warm glow he felt at the soldiers' praise, his last conscious thought was one of worry. Why, he wondered, hadn't Rodney been to visit him?

_A/N: Okay, maybe one more chapter! _


	12. Chapter 12

Carson slept most of the next two days, sometimes only opening his eyes long enough to see Ronan's face before dropping off again. By the third day Carmen had cut back his medication and insisted he get out of bed. He took short, painful walks around the infirmary, supported on one side by his rolling IV pole and on the other by the Satedan, who had to crouch nearly double to do the job.

Carson grew so accustomed to waking up to Ronan's sober eyes that he was actually worried when he was greeted by Sheppard instead. "Colonel," he yawned, stretching careful in consideration of his healing incision. "Where's my shadow?"

"Waiting outside. You up for some visitors?"

"That would be lovely." Easing himself into a sitting position, he ran a hand through his hair and over his whiskered face. He grimaced at the sight he must present.

Sheppard smirked. "You look fine, doc. We're not gonna drag you off to a beauty pageant. Hang on, I'll get everybody."

_Everybody?_ Carson had time to think, and then the room began to fill with people. Ronan, Elizabeth and Caldwell joined Sheppard at his bedside, while everyone on the medical staff, most of the scientists and a fair portion of Atlantis' military contingent crowded around, spilling into the hallway. Carson looked around in bewilderment. "What's all this, then?"

Elizabeth smiled and laid a warm hand on his arm. "Everyone wanted a chance to thank you for what you did on Kaleria. You impressed a lot of people."

Major Lorne nodded. "Sorry to say that some of us might have underestimated you, doc. I sure won't make that mistake again."

"You are an inspiration," Radek Zelenka piped up. "My copy of 'Braveheart' is most requested DVD in city."

A laugh moved through the crowd at that. Ronan deadpanned, "They're calling you Beckett the Brave."

"Ach," Carson moaned, covering his flaming face with his hands. The crowd chuckled again.

"The thanks goes double for me," Sheppard said. "You saved my ass, doc, and I won't forget it."

"It's nothing you haven't done for me several times over, Colonel."

"Be that as it may," Elizabeth broke in, "it has been suggested – by just about everyone in the city – that something official be done to recognize your bravery. Since you're a civilian, we were unable to secure you a Congressional Medal of Honor, as some people were advocating." She leveled a glance at Sheppard, who was clearly still sulking about it. "After a great deal of discussion, I think we've come up with something appropriate."

"Really," Carson protested, "this isn't necessary."

Sheppard ignored him and accepted a small box from Lorne. "Carson Beckett, for your selfless actions in defense of your fellow Atlanteans, you are hereby awarded the first ever Star of Atlantis." He opened the box, revealing a stunning silver star covered with intricate swirls of engraved lines that evoked thoughts of waves. In the center was a stylized letter A formed from a gemstone that shifted colors from blue to green and back. A small circle above the A mimicked the gate symbol for Earth.

Elizabeth removed the medal from its box and pinned it to the front of Carson's scrub top. "Well done, Carson," she said, kissing his cheek. "And thank you." The crowd around him erupted in applause.

"It's beautiful," Carson breathed, touching the medal reverently.

"The geologists have been arguing over the design for days," Zelenka said. "There was almost a fistfight over the size of the A."

Carson chuckled around the lump in his throat. "Thank you, everyone. I'm so honored…I don't know what to say."

Carmen Ruiz smiled and stepped forward. "I hate to put an end to the ceremony, but our hero needs his beauty sleep."

"There's usually a party after a medal ceremony," Sheppard said, "but we've decided to postpone it. You know, until you can actually attend."

"Right generous of you, Colonel." As the crowd started to disburse, Carson caught hold of Sheppard's sleeve. "John, what's going on with Rodney?"

The colonel's lips tightened, his entire expression expressing his irritation. "I don't know, doc. He knew this was going down today, I don't know why he wasn't here." He gave Carson's shoulder a quick pat and headed for the door. "But I'm sure as hell going to find out."

"How's your pain, Carson?" Carmen asked. "Would you like something to help you sleep?"

"No thank you, love. I don't believe I'll have a problem sleeping, it's all I seem to do these days."

"Give it time," she advised. "You lost most of your blood volume. It's going to take a while to get your strength back."

"I know. Thank you, lass." Dr. Ruiz smiled and headed for his office, and Carson was left, once again, with Ronan. "And what do you think, lad? What's Rodney's problem?"

"He's a jerk," the Satedan promptly replied.

Carson snorted. "I mean specifically, not generally. You think Sheppard will convince him to come 'round?"

"No."

"Right then," Carson sighed, pushing the blankets back.

"What are you doing?"

"Rodney needs sorting, and it'll have to be me to do it. Apparently, the mountain will have to go to Mohammed."

"Should you be getting up?"

"I'm not going to exert myself. You'll be doing the hard work. Still," he muttered, shooting a glance towards the open office door, "best keep your voice down. Now, if you'd be so kind, fetch me robe and baffies." He sighed at Ronan's blank look. "Slippers, lad. They're under the bed."

Ronan retrieved the 'baffies' and stuck them on Carson's feet. The doctor struggled into his robe and slid to the edge of the bed. "Right. Find us a wheelchair then, and let's go pull Rodney's head out of his arse."

A/N: I'm going to stop predicting how many chapters are left, I've been wrong too many times already. Thanks for reading!


	13. Chapter 13

After they were waylaid by the third well-wisher, Ronan kept to the lesser-used corridors, pushing Carson's wheelchair unhurriedly in the direction of Rodney's lab. The extra travel time gave the doctor an opportunity to ask a question that had been weighing heavily on his mind.

"Ronan."

"Yeah?"

"Back on the planet, at the jumper. Do you know…is there any way to tell…" Carson sighed and chewed on one knuckle. "I know there was one lad, I couldn't see very well, but…I think I killed him."

Ronan made a noncommittal noise and kept pushing..

"Were there others?" Carson blurted. "How many did I kill?"

The Satedan was silent for a moment. The wheels of the chair hummed and creaked in the quiet hallway. "I don't know," he finally said. "You weren't the only one firing on them, and we didn't stick around to count the bodies."

Carson hung his head. That brought his medal into view, which only depressed him more.

"I killed six men guarding the gate," Ronan stated calmly. "I don't know if they were good men or bad men, whether they deserved to die or not. I just know they were keeping me from getting help for my friends."

"Is that all, then? Because they were in your way, it's okay to kill them?"

"I don't know what's right. I only know what's necessary."

"Right," Carson said uncertainly. "I did what was necessary."

"You never should have been put in that position," Ronan said, uncharacteristic anger lacing his voice. "Guys like me are supposed to protect guys like you, so you don't have to deal with the killing."

"You did the absolute only thing you could do under the circumstances. I suppose I did too," Carson sighed. "It doesn't make me feel any better, but I guess I'll have to learn to live with it."

"I'm sorry," Ronan said. "Sorry that you have to."

The remainder of the trip passed in silence.

They could hear raised voices in the lab before they'd gotten within twenty feet of the door. "Sheppard," Ronan noted. As they got closer, they could clearly make out the sound of the colonel arguing furiously with Rodney McKay.

"I'll tell you, Rodney, you have pulled some selfish stunts in the time I've know you, but this tops 'em all."

"Excuse me, Colonel, but I'm working on upgrades to the shield technology that will benefit all of Atlantis. Whereas you are hanging around my lab doing nothing productive whatsoever, unless you count harassing and annoying me."

"He saved your life, Rodney," Sheppard ground out through what sounded like a tightly clenched jaw. "The least you can do is go thank the man."

"In case you hadn't noticed, I'm a very busy man," Rodney replied in the same tone. "Carson is just going to have to survive on the accolades of everyone else in this freakin' city until I find time to send him a greeting card!"

"Jesus, Rodney, are you jealous? Not even you can possibly be that petty!"

"Clearly you've underestimated me," Rodney snarked back. "Now that we've established that I'm a horrible, ungrateful person, would you mind leaving me the hell alone?"

"Yes, Colonel," Carson cut in. "Why don't you step outside with Ronan, give Rodney and I a moment to chat?"

Rodney wheeled around, giving Carson his first look at him since their rescue. The Canadian's arm was in a sling and strapped snugly to his torso. Patches of pink covered his face like a blotchy sunburn, and the end of one eyebrow seemed to have been singed away. It was his eyes that caught Carson's attention, however. A spectrum of emotions chased through those orbs, leaving the doctor shocked at the naked vulnerability he saw in his friend. Then the iron gates slammed down, Rodney's jaw jutted out, and the obnoxious scientist took over. "I'm really very busy. Now isn't a good time."

"Too bad," Sheppard said, heading for the door. "Ronan and I will be right outside if you need us, Doc. And McKay? If he gets so much as winded, I will personally kick your ass."

The door closed behind the soldiers, and the scientists were left alone.

"Hullo, Rodney," Carson said casually. "How've you been?"


	14. Chapter 14

Rodney moved around a lab bench until it stood between Carson and himself. He picked up an unidentifiable piece of Ancient equipment and began giving it random pokes with a probe. "You're looking well," he said casually, as though they'd just met at a church picnic.

"Aye. It's no wonder, I've got a great hairy six-and-a-half-foot nursemaid watching out for me."

A small but genuine smile ghosted across Rodney's face. "Ronan's decided you're the best thing since sliced bread. And he was pretty impressed by that."

Carson chuckled. "He's a good lad. He's decided he needs to take care of me for a bit. If it makes him feel better to fuss over me a while, I suppose there's no harm." He rested his hands on the wheels of his chair and rocked them slightly back and forth, choosing his words carefully. "I think he's feeling guilty."

Rodney's face hardened. "He should feel guilty. I mean, what the hell was he thinking?"

"That we needed help, and he was the only one mobile enough to make it to the gate?"

"He left us injured and defenseless! We were sitting ducks when the Kalerians arrived!"

"I'll admit it was close, Rodney, but we weren't quite helpless, were we?"

"Oh yes, what was I thinking? We had an unconscious colonel, a blind astrophysicist and a dying doctor! That's not a defense, that's the setup for a sick joke!"

Carson kept his voice even, determined not to give Rodney the argument he was agitating for. "We're alive. We made it."

"It is a miracle that we survived!" Rodney shouted. His face was turning a rather worrying shade of reddish purple. "I don't know if you can comprehend this, but the odds of us leaving that planet alive were infinitesimal!" He moved to his laptop and began aggressively punching keys one-handedly. "Maybe you need a visual aid. Look, this regression chart factors in all the things that went wrong that day, which is to say, EVERYTHING that happened that day. As you can clearly see, all three of us should be dead right now!"

"Och, Rodney," Carson said sadly. "How long have you been closed up in here, fretting over this? I wish you'd come and talked to me."

"Don't do that!" Rodney screamed, shoving his laptop across the bench. "Don't do that thing where you worry about other people instead of yourself! My God, you don't have an ounce of self-preservation! How the hell did you survive to adulthood, you idiot? It's not normal to want to sacrifice yourself for other people, Carson, it's not!" Breathless from his rant, Rodney paced and ran a hand through his hair. "I don't understand," he moaned, pressing the heel of his free hand against his eyes. "Why would you do that? Why would anybody do that for me?"

"Because you're my friend. And because you'd do it for me."

"See, that's where you're wrong! I wouldn't do it for you, or anyone else! Because I know my own worth. My survival is crucial to the continued existence of Atlantis. Also, _I don't want to die. _Infact, I go out of my way to _keep_ from dying. THAT'S what normal people do, Carson. They don't bravely bleed to death while their friends sit a few feet away in total oblivion giving them shit!"

_Ah,_ thought Carson, _that's the spot._ "You're angry because I didn't tell you."

"Yes! Yes, I'm angry!" The Canadian was still pacing, gesturing wildly with his good arm. "I cannot begin to fathom why you wouldn't share something that important!"

"It wouldn't have mattered if you knew, Rodney. I still had to do what I did, and you still couldn't have helped."

"You died! I heard you die in the damned jumper. Can you imagine what that was like, sitting there in total darkness, listening to your people try to bring you back to life? Jesus, Carson! I deserved to know!" Rodney turned his back, leaning heavily on the lab bench.

"I didn't see the point of making you more frightened and worried than you already were." Carson planted his feet on the floor and carefully levered himself to a standing position, bent over slightly to take the strain off his incision. He shuffled the few feet to Rodney's side, his slippers scuffing noisily on the floor.

Rodney turned his head and gaped in alarm. "What – are you supposed to be doing that? You know, walking, and everything?"

"I'll live," Carson said wryly, though he discreetly leaned some of his weight against the bench. "Rodney, I'm sorry I frightened you. And I need you to understand, you have nothing to feel guilty about. I'll tell you the same thing Ronan just told me. We all did what was necessary, and we all have to live with the consequences."

"I didn't do anything," Rodney said. The anger had drained away, leaving him sounding tired and broken.

"Neither did Colonel Sheppard. Do you blame him for not doing more?"

"Carson, he was unconscious."

"He was incapacitated, as were you. Tell me one thing you could have done differently."

The answer was almost too soft to hear. "I could have been nicer."

"Maybe," Carson conceded.

"I said some crappy things to you, and you didn't need to hear them, not after the shit you got from Linel."

"Are you saying you wouldn't have said them if you knew I was injured?"

"Yes. No. I mean…" Rodney sighed and met Carson's gaze for the first time. "I mean, I shouldn't have said them at all. I should have had more faith in you, and I'm afraid you won't forgive me."

Carson smiled and slid over, nudging Rodney's shoulder with his own. "Daft git," he teased gently. "I know you run your mouth more when you're under stress. You're forgiven."

After a moment, Rodney nodded and nudged him back.

"Rodney?"

"Yeah, Carson?"

"I think I'd better sit down. Mind helping me?"

"Shit! Carson, you're white as a ghost." Rodney took his arm and helped him the few steps to the wheelchair. Not content with that, he fetched a blanket from the battered couch where he often crashed. Carson allowed the fussing for a bit, but drew the line when the blanket was tucked around his neck.

"All right, that'll do, lad," he said, pulling the cover into his lap.

Rodney reached out and touched the Star of Atlantis. "Nice medal," he grinned. "Beckett the Brave."

"Och, not you too," Carson moaned. "Do you know what they used to call me at university? Cringing Carson. Every time someone so much as dropped a beaker, they had to peel me off the ceiling."

"Well, that was the old you. Now you're Courageous Carson." The men shared a laugh at that, the hero in question shaking his head in mock despair.

Sheppard poked his head around the door. "Bad news, Doc, you're busted. Dr. Ruiz is on her way down here, and rumor has it she's packing a needle big enough to grill shish-kebabs on."

"Oh, crap," Carson moaned. Wide-eyed and twitching in his seat, he looked neither Courageous nor Brave.

Rodney felt immensely cheered that, underneath the medal, his friend was still the same old Carson.

End

_A/N: Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed! I hope the ending lived up to your expectations. _


End file.
